Night in the Tyre

Night fell over the playground mulch. The heavy black tyre swing hung still from its cold steel chains. I stepped onto the rubber rim and hauled myself up into the hollow curve. Cold rubber gripped my back. Below the chains, I dragged an abandoned red knit beanie over the rim and wedged it beneath my hips for a dry floor. The chains rattled once, then settled into steady iron silence. I leaned back into the rubber cavern and folded my plush fists over my chest. Clear view of the empty swings. High, suspended fortress held. Good.